Act I-I: The Village of Mayfield

" He's a man of Solaire," the father answers gruffly. "He lives in the village, right in his little church. His name's Father Braeburn. Heard he used to travel with Peculiar before either of 'em settled here."

The party leaves the Timberashe farmstead to head back towards Mayfield proper. A thick black smoke reaches up into the sky while an acrid stench fills the nostrils. One can only guess that they had begun burning the bodies of the cursed farm animals.
Nearing the tavern, the pyres are visible on the grass, watched over by vigilant folk as to ensure they do not sputter out of control. Maybe 20 people stand outside with the others of the caravan. Old Peculiar stands with another man, as well as a woman, stand in the center of the path outside the Skeletal Arms. He spots everyone approaching on their way to the church and waves them over warmly.

"That would be me actually," the man standing beside Peculiar answers. "I'm Father Johnathan Braeburn, priest of Solaire. What's this about a robed man?
Peculiar starts telling him of the "courier" as he claimed to be. The priest's face is quite bewildered and intrigued.
"Very interesting... No, I've not been visited by such a figure. I've been with everyone in the tavern during the whole event. To my knowledge, few people entered my church yesterday and no parcels were delivered."

The woman speaks up now, curious about where the party came from.
"Um, excuse me? Did you group just come from the Timberashe farm?"

"Just based off of all... All of this," she motions her hands to the pure, "are my husband and son safe?"
She looks greatly concerned, but not entirely on the verge of tears.
"I can only hope so, as you do not come bearing crestfallen looks."

"Dark times are upon us, it seems," Father Braeburn says, shaking his head wearily. "I've been tending to the wounded in the tavern, as I've said, and I recall no one coming to me on the previous night."
"And no one's seen the figure since last night!" exclaims Old Peculiar, rubbing the top of his head, letting out a hefty sigh.
The sun was lowering at this point, getting on to be maybe about the hour of three in the afternoon. The wounded are still many, and there are no clear clues as to where this mysterious saboteur may have vanished off to.
The party has a few options available to them at the current time:
* They can assist in the clean up and healing
* Explore the village to see what it may have to offer
* Rest and pass the night on
* Or attempt to investigate the saboteur's room

With all the current danger rebuked, the party splits to take care of different tasks.

Talyn goes to assist Father Braeburn with the remaining wounded. Many have sustained either bite or hoof marks. Those with hooves imprinted in bruises often had broken bones. Thankfully, they were not too badly so, only really being fractured and not threatening any further injuries.
The bites on the other hand, had some more curious symptoms. For the most part, chunks were not torn off from the bite, but still broke the skin. Many of the bitten do not show any sign of the curse having been passed on to them. The few, on the other hand, seem to have the mind of sheep or whatever animal that might have bit them. It comes and goes for some, others simply behave like the animal at all times. The curse of whatever foul magic was unleashed by the young Timberashe was not powerful enough to transfer entirely to humanoids. Though, the animal side is interesting, to say the least.

Prusx roamed around the village, looking about, and tries to converse with the animals that escaped undeath. In total, the goblin talked with three cats, a dog, and two milk cows. Their answers are, unfortunately, not too helpful. Each one says that they saw the robed figure pass by them, but did not know where they were going. The cats, however, did communicate that he was headed towards the church, but seemed to go past it.

Leif heads up to the saboteur's room, led by Old Peculiar. As they pass through the common room, he can see all the makeshift bedding that was made on the floor as tables and chairs were used as barricades.
The room is fairly neat. It only just barely looks like it was inhabited recently in the past day. The bed is made, the candle on the stand is halfway used, and a water basin used for face and hand washing is full. With tools out, Life begins his investigation.
Little was left, it seemed, before the figure disappeared. A powerful object was certainly in the room within, as he'd guess, the last 12 - no! - 8 hours! The room is darkened by it, a heavy black tinge loomed over by the nightstand. Whatever it was, also left behind auras surrounding the schools of enchantment and necromancy. Looking under the bed, as one would do, Lief finds an abandoned parcel of stained, wrapped linen.